


To Rise, You Must First Fall

by edgar_essa_and_filip



Category: The School for Good and Evil - Soman Chainani
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Ever Sophie, Ever Tedros, F/M, Mild Language, Never Agatha, Some Cursing, Tedros is too soft for her, The School Years, agatha is a boss, brief tophie, endgame tagatha, some innuendos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-22 13:14:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30039234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edgar_essa_and_filip/pseuds/edgar_essa_and_filip
Summary: Agatha has an evil soul. She’s known since she was a child. She’s known that she was different. That she could do things others could only dream of. She’s expecting the School Master when he comes. She’s expecting the drop into Evil’s Moat. She’s expecting her immediate rise in the ranks of Never students. She’s expecting the unwavering admiration from Evil’s professors.She doesn’t expect him.
Relationships: Agatha/Tedros (The School for Good and Evil), Sophie/Tedros (The School for Good and Evil)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	1. The Other Side

**Author's Note:**

> ——— : means i change the perspective from one character to another ;)
> 
> (The first chapter starts in the middle of the action, I’m probably going to throw in a couple flashbacks for future chapters)
> 
> You can follow me on insta under the same username, I’m planning on posting chapter updates over there. XD

Tedros has been a prisoner for two weeks and three days. Maybe four. He’s not sure, there was the period of time after he tried to kill his guard, the third time he had tried to escape, when he had been beaten so bad he had passed out from the pain. 

After that, he’s had his wrists bound constantly and left to sleep on the cold, hard earth of the cell when they took the cot away. He’s been given dry crusts of bread, fruit close to rotting, a swig of water at the end of the night and first thing in the morning, and again at noon.

He hasn’t given up though. Not yet. The thought of Chaddick and the rest of the Evers keeps him trying. He was only supposed to be gone two nights, and his head spins with what could have happened to them since he left on his scouting mission to Evil castle with Nicholas. God, maybe Nicholas had been lucky: an arrow through the eye, dead almost instantly. 

He needs to get back.

The only warning he gets is the clatter of keys before Anadil is hauling him up to his feet and dragging him through the door of his cell. He loses his balance and falls to his hands and knees.

Hester must be there too because he receives a harsh kick to the stomach when he falls, the breath knocked out of him as a clawed hand reaches around his other arm and helps the albino haul him through the cold passages of the dungeons and sunless hallways of Evil castle.

———

Agatha could hear footfalls approaching, along with the heavy drag of a body against a stone floor, and with it a scent that she couldn’t say she’d ever allowed herself to properly smell before, but it makes her chest ache against her will. 

It was like a breath of fresh air after being underground, mint and vanilla snaking through her lungs and pulsing in her veins. Seductively sweet and hypnotizing at the same time.

She ignores it, banishing the scent from her nose and her heart.

The doors at the end of the hall slam open with a resounding boom, Hester making her usual entrance with the typical bravado. She stalks forward with Anadil, a beaten, prone figure held roughly between them.

“Get up,” Hester hisses, yanking so harshly on the prince’s arm that he lets out a broken moan of pain. A golden head lifts and their eyes meet.

Pretty blue eyes stare at her from under lowered lashes and messy curls. She keeps a straight face as she observes him.

Tedros rises shakily to his feet, faltering on his right leg before righting himself as well as he can. The morning light shines through the high windows on either side, washing him in gold.

 _Typical,_ Agatha scoffs internally. Trust him to still look like an angel fallen from grace after sleeping in dirt and grime.

Chin up, back straight, Tedros still looks proud. 

She turns to Hester, her second in command since the take-over, “What do you think about sending him to the doom room?”

Hester flashes a menacing grin, digging her claws into the muscle of Tedros’ shoulder, “That’s sounds good,” 

Agatha sees the fear in Tedros’ face, probably wondering how much worse the doom room could be than his dingy cell in the dungeons. 

———

Before he can even think it through, Tedros wrenches himself from the witches’ grasps, staggering forward and dropping to his knees as he leans, nearly losing his balance before pressing his face into Agatha’s thigh, high up, so that his forehead rests just below her hip bone. It’s the only gesture of supplication that comes to him, the only way he can think to ask for mercy, gagged and stifled as he is.

There’s a silence that comes from his action, and Tedros realizes he may have made a huge mistake. He could be killed instantly for this, could be tortured. He doesn’t know how the Nevers do things anymore, he doesn’t know how badly he could have just fucked up. 

Agatha is like a queen to them.

But instead of rough hands hauling him off and away from Agatha, a sword or axe or demon flying at his head, long, slender fingers card into his hair and run through the golden curls.

“Oh,” the girl says above him, and there’s a touch of amusement to her voice, but a surprising note of satisfaction too. “Oh I see.”

Her voice is as soft as the movement of her fingers, strangely gentle as she pets his hair and it’s almost more than Tedros can stand after the disastrous Trial by Tale and the chaos that followed afterwards. 

She might have been the cause of it but he presses closer anyway, rolls his forehead against her and finds the silk hem of her dress and curls his fingers into it, it’s light texture the softest thing he’s felt since everything went to hell. 

Even though he should hate her, he can’t bring himself to care at that moment.

She smells good, like whatever incense is burning. God, he doesn’t want to die.

“Excuse his pathetic behaviour,” Hester sneers from above. “Anadil get him-”

“No,” Agatha whispers, voice still carrying in the large room, hand tightening in Tedros’ hair as if to keep him close to her, making him wince. “No, don’t touch him.”

Her fingers slide down his jaw and draw his face upward so that Tedros looks at her. She studies him, eyes calculated but Tedros sees something else there that he can’t identify. She thumbs lightly across the curve of his mouth. 

“You don’t belong in the dungeons or the doom room, do you?” She asks him as she searches his eyes, reading the plea there, and her voice is pitched low just for him. 

Tedros realizes she’s actually asking him and he swallows, roughly around the gag, shakes his head. Agatha makes a soft sound of what Tedros thinks is understanding and tucks her thumb into the gag against his cheek, eases it slowly from his mouth and Tedros takes a grateful deep breath of air, feels how dry his throat is.

“Please,” he manages to whisper, ignores the presence of Hester and Anadil standing threateningly behind him because they don’t matter anymore. Nothing but Agatha and him on his knees matters right now. 

He can’t quite bring himself to call her by the title she’d been given by the other Nevers, but manages to move his lips over the words. Agatha is watching his mouth and she strokes her knuckles over his cheek, her brown eyes almost black in the half shadows.

“I’ll take care of him now.”

Hester looks sorely disappointed but gives a curt nod and leaves with Anadil at her side.

The word _care_ should have been comforting but Tedros only feels uneasy. 

Agatha pulls him to his feet and guides him to a small side door that Tedros hadn’t even noticed until now, ebony handle excellently camouflaged against the other carvings on the walls. Her hand is firm on the back of his neck, palms icy cold against the burning heat of his nape.

They climb a long spiral staircase to a room in a tower that had to be much higher than the rest, temperature dropping as Agatha closes the door behind herself.

She lets him go and walks deeper into the room, casting a quick glance at the papers on her desk before turning back to him.

Her blatant confidence unnerves him. Tedros knows he’s physically stronger than her and his combat skills are probably better as well, but with the way she’s looking at him, he thinks he may be overpowered. 

“Why don’t you remind me how nice you look when you’re on your knees,” Agatha suggests, looking at him, her voice pitched soft with a cool authority laced through it. 

Tedros’ eyes widen, then narrow as he assesses her.

A little dizzily, he sinks down, one knee hitting the floor and then the other and he sits back on his heels and looks up at Agatha. To keep her happy, to have her keep him close and gain her confidence, Tedros will do anything she asks him.

“I’ll bring much needed progress to this school.” Agatha remarks, voice quiet yet assertive, “Evil will once again come to balance the oppression of Good.”

She steps forward and looks down at him, obsidian rings glinting on her hands as she rolls her wrists in front of herself. Tedros fights to keep some semblance of dignity as she watches him like a lioness would a gazelle.

“I need control of Camelot,” she pauses, watching and waiting for Tedros’ reaction.

Tedros’ mind races and his pulse flies high as he tries to process her words. The anxiety must be obvious on his face because Agatha stays silent. Tedros just now notices that in the time they’ve been in the room, she has been slowly nearing him, now only a few feet away.

“To do that, I need your cooperation,” Agatha says, voice unforgiving, “willing or unwilling,”

Tedros finally looks up at her, really looks up at her, crystal-blue eyes glistening even in the inky darkness of her room, the few rays of morning sun filtering through the windows providing the only source of light. Agatha must see something she likes, because a taunting smile graces her lips.

He needs to make her believe that she controls him, and at this point he doesn’t know if she might actually, but he’ll keep fighting anyway. If he loses a couple pieces of himself along the way, that’s okay.

But there’s a voice in the back of his mind that’s telling him she’s found those pieces of him, collected them and is now keeping them out of reach; pale, slender fingers tight around the rest of his jagged edges.

———

“You’re a snake.” Tedros trembles, hunching over, tattered cloak slipping off his shoulders and exposing golden skin marred with ugly purple bruises and angry scratches.

Agatha offers a cryptic smile, “I am.” 

She steps closer to a still kneeling Tedros and trails a finger slowly along his jaw and then to his lips. He doesn’t flinch, which makes her smile wider still. She changes the angle and lets him feel the sharp drag of her pointed fingernails, painted blood red instead of black for the happy occasion.

“But you’re so pretty that I’ve decided to forgo eating you, my sweet.”

Tedros’ hands are bound behind him, one push and he’d practically be kissing her boots. Her eyes glitter at the thought before she grabs him by his lovely curls and forces him to look in her eyes.

“Such a tantalizing ocean,” she murmurs, letting her enjoy the gaze of those big blue eyes, “Seductive enough for some to drown in.”

“And yours?” He manages to whisper, “What of the depth of your darkness? Pulling me in and never letting go?”

She goes still.

He has managed to surprise her. A feat very few have accomplished before.

She assesses him for another moment before letting go of his hair, his head immediately falling to his chest in exhaustion.

———

She walks over to her bed and picks up a long black rope, Tedros stiffens when he sees the rope move and curl around Agatha’s pale arm.

_He recognizes it immediately, a black mamba._

“Notoriously venomous animals,” Agatha laughs, “Quite shy until you provoke them,” she stalks forward, dress swishing around her legs, “Then they become highly aggressive.”

She stands before him once again, her and the snake considering him with what Tedros sees as the exact same expression.

The black mamba dances forward and Tedros doesn’t dare move a muscle.

“They’re almost impossible to train, but she’s quite docile when she wants to be.”

Agatha lazily extends her arm and the snake is sliding onto Tedros’ bare shoulders, raising goosebumps with every twist of its body. Tedros can’t call it a _she_ no matter what Agatha says.

The snake makes its way up Tedros’ neck and over his ear, starting to curl itself through his hair like some diabolical crown, the contrast of midnight scales and golden curls stark even in the little light of Agatha’s room.

Agatha reveals a cryptic smile, “She likes you.”

Tedros is frozen still, unnerved by the black snake’s apparent infatuation with him.

_How in the actual hell did he get himself into this situation?_


	2. The Witch Who Changed It All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4 months earlier: Agatha and Sophie arrive at the School for Good and Evil, classes begin, the Trial by Tale comes, bonds are formed and broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically a flashback and explanation of the events leading up to what happens in chapter one ;)

_4 months earlier_

When Tedros had seen Agatha for the first time, something in her eyes told him that the school year wouldn’t be anything like the others. 

And he’d been right.

Classes had started off relatively normally. 

Tedros, determined to snag the number one spot at Good, had laboured and trained more than ever so he could beat the other boys in swordplay and chivalry. He knew that he wasn’t the most intelligent in class, that much was obvious. So he studied harder and longer for the best grades in class. As the future King of Camelot, it was his duty to become the best Ever in his year.

He’d speedily risen in the ranks and was standing solidly at Number One in no time. 

But he hadn’t risen as quickly as _her._

Agatha had arrived as one of the two Reader girls in the Theater of Tales, at first looking scared and uneasy in the presence of all the Evers and Nevers. But she’d shown her true colors on the very first day of classes.

She had excelled in all the tasks she’d been set and had claimed her place as #1 villain almost instantly. She seemed disinterested in all things that weren’t villainous or in the pursuit of evil, but the first time their eyes had met, Tedros had been frozen by the emotions swirling around in her dark stare.

Curiosity, shock, realization, and then pure, unbridled _rage._

It had only been a moment before her mask of indifference slammed back down and she was as cold and collected as ever.

All Tedros could think about was the pull between them, as if she was his princess and he needed to run to her, to rescue her, no matter the danger. But Agatha certainly didn’t want or _need_ him to save her. Besides, she was a villain not a princess, a fact Tedros had to remind himself of time and time again.

The other Reader girl who had arrived with her must have been the most charitable, charismatic, brave girl Tedros had ever met. Sophie was the definition of a perfect princess. Sweet and kind, they had become friends right away, growing closer every day.

Before the first signs of winter-frost had shown on the trees Tedros had asked her to be his princess and she had happily accepted.

For some peculiar reason Sophie remained friends with Agatha, despite their many differences. Sophie seemed to be the only one Agatha would let her guard down with, the dark-haired witch letting out small smiles at Sophie’s dramatic tales of face cream and wardrobe malfunctions.

That all changed when Sophie and Tedros became a couple. When Sophie had gone to share the good news, Agatha had bristled and stood silently through the rest of Sophie’s joyful explanation before pivoting on her heel and marching back to Evil without a word.

Sophie had looked heartbroken as Tedros took her under his arm, burying her head in his chest, arms wrapped tightly around his waist, green eyes glued to Agatha’s retreating back. 

“She hates me now,” Sophie had whimpered.

Tedros gave her a reassuring squeeze and tilted her head up towards him, “She could never hate you.”

Sophie still looks gloomy and Tedros sighs, “Agatha doesn’t like me much. She probably thinks I don’t deserve you.”

Sophie sniffles, “You’re probably right,” she looks up at him with a smirk, “Do you think you deserve me?”

Tedros stares down at Sophie, face stoically blank before his expression cracks into an impish grin and he grabs her around the waist, throwing her over his shoulder, tickling at her sides with merciless fingers. Sophie squeals and tries to steady herself on his shoulder but loses her grip as she giggles uncontrollably, face pink with laughter.

“Tell me I’m the best boyfriend!” he insists with a light poke to her side, “Tell me I’m the best boyfriend _ever!”_

Sophie’s giggling so hard she’s gasping for air, not able to get words out through her laughter, “Put me— down,” she manages to gasp out.

Tedros decides to show her mercy and puts her back down on her feet. Sophie smoothes out her dress and loops an arm around his bicep, “Let’s go inside, it’s too cold out here,” she marches towards the tunnel of trees that lead to Good, towing Tedros along with her.

Tedros risks a glance backwards and almost trips over his own feet. Agatha is still standing at the entrance of the other tunnel, eyes on fire, black curtain of hair whipping around in the wind, strands like thick tendrils of smoke in the air.

Hester appears at her side, whispering something into Agatha’s ear and making a couple of gestures in the air, slashing a finger down decisively with a wicked grin to finish.

Agatha’s expression doesn’t change but she opens her mouth to say something in response before turning and walking into the tunnel of trees, Hester following on her right.

Tedros turns around with a shiver, still unable to shake the feeling that there was something connecting them, like a rope or chain that didn’t want to break.

The Trial approaches faster than he would have thought. He and Agatha are selected from their Forest Group. He isn’t surprised, they’re both the leaders at their respective schools, #1 Never and #1 Ever, forever antagonists in each other's tales.

Tedros is eager to prove his worth when they’re pushed into the blue foliage of the forest, running straight for where he thinks Nevers might be lurking, aiming to take them out to increase the chance of another Good victory.

He manages to eliminate a trio of Nevers in the first few hours, but strangely doesn’t come across anything in the next two.

Then the screaming starts.

There’s a roar of something in the distance beside it, so loud that it’s unintelligible, waves of noise dull and constant washing over him. Tedros can’t seem to make out the source through the tall boughs of the navy forest and is about to seek a better vantage point when he sees Evers crashing and tumbling through the trees in the distance, running towards him like their lives depend on it. 

Tedros finds out later that it did.

Chaddick almost knocks him over with the force of his hug, the burly Everboy the first to reach him.

“What—“ Tedros begins, looking bewildered at all the Evers around him, “but the Trial isn’t over—“

Chaddick interrupts him but he’s speaking so fast Tedros only catches bits and pieces, “Nevers—Agatha’s magic—teachers gone,” his panicked and rushed explanation has him bending over with the force of it, hands on his knees, unable to lift his head in exhaustion. 

He only glimpses two flashes of differently toned blonde hair before Sophie and Beatrix are throwing themselves at him, Sophie’s hands are around his neck and Beatrix is clinging to one of his arms.

“Teddy,” they cry at the same time, “the Never students—!”

He can’t make out the rest through their hysterics.

After Sophie and Beatrix reluctantly release him, Tedros is informed of the situation through more tearful explanations and hurried reenactments of what had happened back at the two schools while he and the others were in the Trial. 

He slides down a tree trunk to sit on the ground, head in his shaking hands as he tries to process.

The Nevers had been planning this for weeks.

A preemptive strike to “assert their dominance” as said so eloquently by Agatha, in a rousing speech that had the Nevers screaming for blood.

The Nevers had frozen the teachers and locked them away, preventing their intervention.

And now they were on the hunt.

“We need to move,” Tedros says, pushing himself to his feet and looking out on all of the fearful faces staring back at him, “Getting to Good and barricading ourselves inside is the first priority until we find a better plan.”

Chaddick nods at him with a determined look in eyes but shudders when the first howls reach them, the Nevers roaring after them in the distance.

Tedros slides Excalibur down the back of his shirt, blade pressed against his spine, “If we stay together we don’t have to worry.”

Tedros doesn’t know if he’s trying to convince them or himself. The Evers break out into a run, Tedros leading them on the shortest path towards Good castle. The adrenalin keeps him and the others going, but despite their speed the Evil students are closing in, their screams growing louder.

He only sees a flash of black fur before Sophie is shoved to the ground, a hulking form above her as she scrambles backwards. Tedros rushes to her aid, waving the rest of the Evers forward with a shout. He knows he insisted they stick together, but he can’t bring himself to ask for their help, not when they were already in so much danger.

The enormous monstrosity swivels towards Tedros, crouching between him and Sophie, growling and salivating through razor-sharp teeth.

Wide blue eyes meet beady red ones and Tedros immediately draws his sword, blade glinting in the moonlight.

_One of Anadil’s rats._

If one was here, the others weren’t far behind.

The most important thing was getting Sophie safely back to Good. He didn’t have to kill the thing, just injure it enough for them to escape. 

Tedros settles for reckless bravery as he rushes the rat, swinging his sword in an arc and into its meaty side. The monstrous rodent hadn’t expected the head-on attack and screeches in pain, gnashing its teeth in rage. With the same movement Tedros slides under one huge paw, skidding through the mud and slashing his sword upwards again, tearing through fur and flesh and spraying himself with warm, wet blood. 

His shoulder screams in pain as the fabric of his shirt is shredded from his skin, the rough ground tearing the rest of it from his arms and chest. He lurches to his feet and grabs Sophie by the waist, almost tripping over his own feet as they take off after the others.

Tedros soon realizes why Sophie couldn’t do anything to help, they only make it a few steps before she nearly falls onto her hands and knees, Tedros’ arms the only thing holding her up. 

“It’s my leg,” Sophie gasps, continuing to limp forward, leaning her weight heavily into Tedros’ side. They stumble forward and almost trip again. Tedros catches a glimpse of her left leg from under her dress and the scratch running from her knee up her thigh has him taking a sharp breath in alarm.

He hears the answering screeches of the other two rats in the distance, a certain response to the first rat’s cry.

“Shit,” Tedros hisses, letting Sophie lean against a tree for a quick moment as he tears a strip of fabric from his pant leg, reaching under Sophie’s knee and lifting her leg to tightly wrap the strip around it. She winces but helps him tie it off, moving to lean on him again.

“We need to go,” she urges.

Tedros stops her with a hand around her wrist, “Sophie, I’m gonna need to carry you,” he pulls her closer with urgency, “We’re too slow like this.”

The blonde princess was strong, probably the strongest princess he knew, but her wound looked too severe and he couldn’t risk her not making it back. 

The worry and anxiety and fear crawl up his throat and his heart beating so hard Tedros thinks it might rip straight out of his chest.

He has to keep her leg more or less elevated so he ignores her squeak of surprise as he sweeps her up into a bridal carry and starts running, ripping through the underbrush, determination to save her fueling his race towards safety.

He hears the breaking of branches behind him and there’s a flash of pink over his shoulder that must have been Sophie because there’s a screech of pain behind him and a curse from what sounds like either Anadil or Hester.

That thought has him tumbling through the forest even faster, not wanting a confrontation with the witches when Sophie was this injured. He almost lets out a sob of relief when he sees a distant flash of blue glass through the trees.

Sophie lets out a gasp against his neck as she looks backwards over his shoulder, he risks a quick glance behind them and instinctively holds Sophie tighter, faltering in his run. His brain tells him to move but it’s like he’s frozen in place.

Agatha sits atop a large black stallion, black cloak billowing around her even in the slight breeze, eyes hard as diamonds as she observes them. Anadil and Hester stalk past her, murder in their eyes as they approach the two Evers. But Agatha only has to raise a hand and they stop, looking back to her for orders.

“Let them go,” Agatha says evenly, dark hair an inky curtain around her angular face.

Hester and Anadil look at her for only a short moment before turning around and walking away, no hesitance in their steps. 

Agatha fixes Sophie and Tedros with a last stare, making it clear that they were only alive on account of her mercy before pulling on the reins of the stallion and pivoting away, taking off into the darkness of the woods, not even a glance back.

Tedros still thinks he could have fought his way out if it really came down to it. But he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth, turning back around and half walking, half stumbling the rest of the way to Good with Sophie in his arms.


End file.
